


Chills

by MusicalLuna



Category: Psych
Genre: Arrows, Established Relationship, F/M, Hurt Shawn Spencer, Hurt/Comfort, Originally Posted on Psychfic, Shawn Whump, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-10
Updated: 2008-08-10
Packaged: 2019-03-10 22:22:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13510965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicalLuna/pseuds/MusicalLuna
Summary: Shock makes Shawn talky.Shules Ficathon '08 entry.





	Chills

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Boxers
> 
> Hehehe. I had fun with this one.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I don't own Shawn or Juliet... Le sigh...

They strip Shawn down to his boxers.

The only reason those don't go too is because what with the arrows sticking out between his ribs and left calf, it's pretty easy to locate his injuries. The psychic is lying on his side in the grass because both of the arrows are through-and-through and lying on his back would be almost impossible even if it weren't going to do him more damage. Juliet hasn't stopped stroking the hair at his temple since she reached his side, grass-stains on the knees of her jeans proof of her dramatic arrival. He's far calmer than he should be and that's what freaks her out the most.

He grins lazily at her as the medics begin thickly swathing the area around the arrow in his leg and says matter-of-factly, “I'm in shock.”

She can't help but smile at him. “I can see that.”

Rick, the older medic on the left, glances up but says nothing.

The other grunts and curses as a passerby bumps him, which in turn causes him to nudge the arrow. Juliet almost says something to the officer, but it's dark in the field, despite the flashlights, and she knows he probably couldn't quite see them. Shawn glances down, curious, but not hurting. “Is that really necessary guys?”

“Yes, sir,” Rick says patiently. “I know it doesn't hurt but, trust me, it's necessary if you'd like to retain the ability to walk.”

Shawn's head rolls back slightly on her lap, his eyes—brighter than usual—looking up at her. “You're going to take pictures, right Jules? I have to have pictures of this. No one will believe me.”

He sounds so _normal_ and Juliet might be convinced that he was faking the whole thing if it weren't for the fact that she'd _seen_ the arrows hit him, heard him cry out, watched him fall. “There will be pictures, Shawn,” she promises.

The grass is damp and he shivers, mumbling, “Kinda chilly.”

His arm is cold when she rubs a sympathetic hand along it and she bends over him, pressing her lips to his shoulder. It might not help much, but she can hear him smiling when he says, “Now doesn't seem like the right time or place, Jules.”

She smiles and mumbles into his arm, “Shut up, Shawn.”

The fingers of his other hand come up, stroking clumsily along the top of her head. She can feel small vibrations under the skin of his shoulder as he shivers and she's not sure what it is that does it, but hot tears well up in her eyes and she clenches them shut, trying to keep her breathing steady. Shawn needs her to be calm, strong.

All it takes is one, slipping down her cheek to drop onto his chest.

“Jules?”

The concern in his voice is more than she can take and a sob catches in her throat, her arms moving to cover her eyes.

“Hey, hey, Jules, it's okay,” he says, anxious. “I know the sight of me in my boxers is a little overwhelming, but—”

She chokes out a laugh, her breathing hitching somewhere halfway between a gasp and a sob and the tears thicken for just a moment.

“It's going to be okay,” Shawn assures her, his voice low and soothing and she wonders why it is that the shocky victim of two arrows is the one who's doing the comforting.

“All right, let's get him on a board and get him out of here,” Rick says and for a moment her grip on Shawn tightens, unwilling to let him go. Then they're shifting him, brushing her out of the way and she gives chase, his hair slipping through her fingers. The fear wells up inside her, so large she feels like it's crushing her lungs, her heart, her throat. They can't take him away or she's never going to see him again. Her arms wrap around her body as she watches them lift him into the ambulance and her heart stops when she hears him cry out.

Then she realizes that it's a word, that he's telling them to wait and they do, all turning to look at her.

“Shawn, what are you doing?” she manages to ask and his head tips backwards, his eyes meeting hers. He beckons her closer and she almost falls apart again when he presses his hand to the back of her neck and draws her into a kiss.

“I love you,” he whispers against her mouth.

She stops, time suspending around her, and the medics gently pull her away, climbing in and closing the doors. Carlton comes up behind her, laying an awkwardly reassuring hand on her shoulder and then, still hanging in a moment that has already passed her by, she whispers back, “I love you, too.”


End file.
